Page 7 of Taken By The Wolves
But for some reason, what embarrasses me isn’t the injury. It’s my toes. Painted cherry red, neat and shiny.
Too bold. Too sexual. Too… obvious.
He notices. His eyes flick over the polish and then to mine. There’s no teasing smirk on his face, just that cool, assessing calm again. His gaze is so deep, it seems to touch parts of me I don’t show anyone.
I bite my lip at the intensity within their depths.
His silence is unnerving. His stillness is even more so.
I can’t read him at all.
He’s so damn sexy, from the straightness of his nose to the fullness of his lips, but it’s his eyes that have me shivering. Cool and blue, they’re as pretty as they are empty.
Nixon lifts my foot from his lap and settles it on a thickcushion on the coffee table. Then he stands, walking with quiet purpose to the kitchen, pulling a tea towel from a drawer, and grabbing a plastic bag from the counter. I watch him fill it with ice, fold it in half, and wrap it. The whole motion is efficient and quiet, like he’s done it before. Like he’s used to people being hurt around him.
I reach into my purse and curl my fingers around my phone. It’s there. Warm from my body heat. My lifeline.
But the moment of comfort is shattered when the front door swings open with a loud creak.
A man walks in.
And he’s completely naked.
I freeze.
He’s tall, lean, and broad-shouldered with the kind of body that could only be built in the woods or a weight room. His torso is marked with dark, intricate tattoos that spiral across his chest and arms, curling like ancient script. His hand goes to his cock, which he attempts to conceal but fails. It’s so big that, even though his hand is enormous, there is still a whole lot on show.
My mouth drops open. He blinks.
“Reed,” Nixon growls from behind me, his tone halfway between irritation and warning. “Clothes. Now.”
The naked man, Reed, turns toward the door with a roll of his eyes. “We didn’t know you had company,” he mutters. “A sign might’ve been helpful.”
But then a scratching sound attracts my attention. Heavy, like claws on wood.
Something massive moves just beyond the open door.
A moment later, a huge gray muzzle pushes through the frame. Not a dog. Not even close. The creature is enormous. Muscular. Predatory. Its eyes gleam with intelligence, iceblue, sharp, and utterly unnatural.
I press myself deeper into the couch cushions, heart thudding. “That’s… a big dog.”
Reed glances at the hand still cupping himself and smirks. “No one’s ever called it that before. But I like it.”
My cheeks go up in flames.
Nixon mutters a curse. “Get dressed.”
I guess that Reed is Nixon’s brother. Now I’ve had a moment to look him over. The strong family resemblance is obvious. There's something about his hard jaw, cheekbones, and eyes. Wow. Even the dog matches his owners in that regard.
“And take…” Nixon pauses, looking at the beast who seems so out of place in this crafted, clean environment.
Reed pats the wolf-dog on the head with his free hand. “Come,” he says, heading off up the stairs, his perfect bare ass on display. I can’t help but watch him striding away as heat floods between my legs.
Wow.
Two gorgeous men under one lonely and isolated roof. If I weren’t desperate to return to civilization, a girl could find plenty to keep her occupied out here in the woods. Those reviews on TripAdvisor flash through my mind again. Maybe this cabinhasseen its fair share of ‘local hospitality.’
Nixon closes the front door and sits at the table before lifting my foot. “Sorry about that. My brother…well, we don’t usually have visitors.”
